In the Same Boat
by tragicbeauty1991
Summary: Barbossa and Salazar both know what it's like to be cursed. They know how to die. What they don't know is how to truly live. When Carina stops her father from sacrificing himself to kill the now-mortal Spanish captain, the two men find themselves in a position they never expected-Barbossa as a father and Salazar at the mercy of a ship full of pirates.


**Author's Note: Well, I think I can officially add a new villain to my list of favorites. (For those of you following me for my other current multi-chapter _Les Mis_ story, don't worry. I haven't forgotten about it. I'm just a slowpoke and this idea hit me like a ton of bricks, so I had to get it out of my system.) Anyway, I just finished watching _Dead Men Tell No Tales,_ and while I loved what they did with Barbossa and the introduction of Salazar, I felt that their deaths were a little too quick and unnecessary, so being the sappy fanfic writer that I am, I decided to fix it. Enjoy! **

Barbossa guided Carina's hand to the chain, telling her to hold on as he began to loosen his grip, a sad smile on his face. He had only just met his daughter, but he was already so proud of her. It was a shame he wouldn't get to spend more time with her, but perhaps it was better this way. She had slapped him when he had insulted her father before she'd known who he was. If he had revealed himself to her then, he thought, she might have slapped him a second time. Perhaps now, at least, she might see him as something more heroic than the disappointment that he was.

It didn't take long for Carina to realize what he was doing, her face turning white with horror as his fingers began to slip.

"NO!" she screamed, latching onto his wrist. "I've spent my entire life searching for you! I'm not letting you go now! Not like this!"

He had not planned for this. He had hoped to go out in a figurative blaze of glory, hoped that in his death he might redeem himself in her eyes and make up for the years that he had left her alone in the world. But she wouldn't let him have that satisfaction. She wouldn't let him go that easily. There was a fierce determination in her eyes, eyes that remind him of another woman he had once loved. And so for her sake, he held on – tighter than he had ever held onto anything in his life.

As the anchor rose from the water, he saw the crew of _The_ _Pearl_ coming to their aid.

"Hector!" Jack shouted down at him from the deck where the others had helped him aboard. There was genuine worry in his voice.

Strange, he mused, how far they had come. For as long as they had known each other, they had always alternated between being at each other's throats and being brothers in arms. He had once gone to the ends of the earth – to hell and back, as it were – for _The_ _Pearl_...but also partially for Jack, he admitted. And seeing his current expression, he had no doubts that Jack would do the same for him because, at the end of the day, pirates though they were, they would always have each other's back.

He climbed aboard, soaked to the skin and looking far more like a wet rat than the fearsome captain that he was, Jack and Gibbs each grabbing an arm to steady him while Henry helped Carina. He recalled, for a moment, the highly unorthodox wedding ceremony he'd performed on the deck of this very ship all those years ago and smiled almost fondly at the boy, wondering if perhaps he'd be performing another in a couple of years. He had missed so much of his daughter's life... He hoped it wasn't too late to change that.

Apparently, it wasn't because the moment her feet hit the deck, she was embracing first Henry, then him.

"Father," she whispered.

And for the first time in many, many years, he felt the sting of tears behind his closed eyes.

But the moment was cut short as the last few feet of the chain holding the anchor rose from the depths of the sea, carrying with it a final passenger who hoisted himself over the railing and onto the deck – Captain Armando Salazar, in the flesh, at last. Long strands of dark hair, no longer floating freely as they had in his ghostly form, were plastered against his face, but his uniform – though stuck to his skin with the weight of the water it had absorbed – was as pristine-looking as ever. His face had a bit of color now – more olive than the ghastly chalky complexion they'd seen before, but it hardly diminished his intimidating presence, his eyes still hard and cold.

But intimidating or not, he was no longer immortal. And without a weapon in his hand or at his side – the sword he usually carried having been lost to the sea in the midst of all the chaos – he was, for all intents and purposes, defenseless. He was outnumbered, out gunned, and on a ship which was not his own. He was at their mercy.

Almost immediately, there were a half a dozen swords pointed at his throat and nearly twice as many pistols aimed at his chest, no longer permeable as mist but made of flesh and bone beneath which lay the beating heart of a man. His weakness became apparent to him at nearly the same moment that he felt the heat of the sun upon his cheek and the gentle sea breeze ruffle his hair for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. In the span of seconds, his face displayed a vast array of emotions almost too quickly for his mind to keep up – the proud, determined look of a hunter having cornered his prey; the immeasurable joy of being alive; the crushing realization of his own mortality; fear; rage; and at long last, defeated resignation.

Surprisingly, Jack was the first to lower his weapon, but it wasn't so much a gesture of mercy as it was an insult. There was no need for a weapon now. The Spaniard had climbed aboard _The_ _Pearl_ without any men of his own and was now its captain's prisoner. His only choice was between Jack's crew and the sharks...and the latter would be much less forgiving. Having experienced death himself before, Jack knew that no sane man who had escaped such a fate would ever willingly take his own life, no matter how desperate. And even if he had considered it, Salazar's pride would not allow it.

"It would seem," Jack said, striding across the deck, "that _El Matador del Mar_ has once again met his match. The butcher's bill has been paid in full. You and your crew have had your humanity restored – that counts for something, I should think. I took your life once. I've no desire to take it again, so what say we simply call it even and agree to disagree until I can drop you off on some nice, deserted island, savvy?"

"My crew," Salazar spat, "is at the bottom of the sea."

"Well, that's not my problem, now, is it? I'm not their captain who left them there to drown."

The Spaniard took a step toward him, forgetting for a moment that he no longer held the sword which often doubled as his cane. He stumbled, then, landing in a heap at Jack's feet as his knees buckled with the searing pain that shot up his leg. He was spewing curses, swearing like the sailor that he was in a garbled mix of Spanish and English so viciously that an onlooker who did not speak a word of either language wouldn't have needed a translation.

"You...!" he seethed. "You took _EVERYTHING_ from me!"

He was clawing at the deck, trying desperately to pull himself up, but his leg was too weak. His mortality had returned in full force, bringing with it the fresh pain of an old wound that he had not been able to feel for years. He dragged himself over to the mast that he might have something to brace himself against, crawling on his hands and knees.

"My pride, my ship, my crew, my family, my life, my very _soul_..." He propped himself up against the mast, too tired and too ashamed to struggle any further. " _What more do you want from me?!_ "

Jack's gaze softened. "Nothing," he said quietly. "I never wanted anything from you but my freedom. I wanted you out of my way, I wanted you lost at sea...but I swear on my life I never intended for you to end up..." He gestured to his face, trailing his fingers in lines of imaginary squid ink dribbling down his chin, smacking his lips as though even the thought left a horrid taste in his mouth and shuddered. "Wouldn't wish that on anyone."

"You have no idea what sort of hell I have been through."

"Oh, I think I can imagine..."

It was not Jack but Barbossa who had spoken.

Perhaps it was only because Carina was watching and being a father made him want to be a better man, but for whatever reason, Barbossa felt compelled to take pity on the man. Jack had been to The Locker, it was true. And that in and of itself was enough to drive a man to madness... But he had not spent years cursed in an undead state like he and the original crew of _The_ _Pearl_ had. That was something entirely different and drew forth memories of a time which Barbossa did not recall with any fondness. He stepped forward, his own bejeweled peg leg dragging slightly as he walked – another area in which he could all too easily empathize with the man propping himself up against the mast.

"Ye're always starvin' but food turns tah ash in yer mouth. Always dyin' of thirst, yet nothin' ever quenches it. Ye cannot feel-not the sun or the rain on yer face nor the softness of a woman's touch nor the fiery sting of cold steel slicin' yer skin. Yer heart no longer beats, yet somehow ye're still alive. Everything that once had meanin' is empty and hollow. Ye're a dead man walkin'."

Salazar bore a pained expression. For a moment, he could not find his voice. Then...

" _How...?_ " he croaked.

"Yer not the only man what has been cursed in such a manner and lived to tell the tale. Or rather...come back from the dead to tell it."

At this, Carina gave a start. Realizing that the undead were real was one thing. Realizing that her long-lost father (who also happened to be a pirate captain) had once been among them was quite another. But that, she supposed, was a story for another day. She had so many questions already. Life with her father, it seemed, would be much more complicated than she had anticipated. Yet she could not deny a slight thrill at the thought of more adventures at his side.

"'Twas our greed and our pride that did us in," Barbossa continued. "Aztec gold, cursed by the heathen gods... We were warned of the consequences, but we heeded them not. 'Twas yer own pride that did ye in as well, I suspect. Nothin' would do but tah take yer revenge on every last pirate sailin' in the Spanish Main for the deaths of yer father and his father before him. I can't rightly say that I blame ye for that... Ye say that we're not worthy of bein' called men at all, that we are loathsome creatures lower than the bilge rats and the barnacles on the hull of a ship. That may be so. I am hardly an honest man."

He glanced briefly at Carina, looking somewhat ashamed, then returned his attention to Salazar.

"Yet ye do it in the name of honor and justice. But if it's vengeance yer seekin', then ye ought to at least have the decency tah call it what it is like the rest of us... There's as much blood on yer hands as there is on ours. Perhaps more. If ye be satisfied knowin' that, then by all means, continue yer reign as _El Matador del Mar_ – that is, assumin' ye make it off this ship alive. But if ye want tah keep tellin' yerself that yer better than us humble pirates, now's the time tah prove it. Not all men make it to hell and back alive, and one thing I can tell ye, when yer given a second chance at life, ye ought not tah waste it."

He looked back at Carina.

"Take it from someone who's wasted too many second chances already."

The Spaniard laughed bitterly. "You think that by sparing me you may spare yourselves of my wrath when I am free? My life was devoted to hunting down men like you – murderous thieves who take what they can and give nothing back. Without that, what am I?" He glared at Jack. "Give me a weapon, and I will fight you to the death. Or kill me now, like a man. But stop this foolish pretense! We both know what you are, Jack Sparrow!"

"Firstly," Jack replied, "there should be a 'captain' in there somewhere. Secondly, despite what you may think, I am neither stupid enough to give you a weapon nor cruel enough to kill an unarmed man. So it seems we are at an impasse."

He began pacing the deck.

"You know, I once knew a man who thought like you."

He paused to glance at Henry.

"His father was a pirate...AND a good man. Took him awhile to accept that."

His gaze returned to Salazar.

"Truth is, the world's not all black and white, mate, and thank goodness for that because it would be a dreadfully dull place if it was. For example..." He spread his arms wide, taking a mock bow. "I am a pirate. I admit to that. But I am not a cold-blooded killer. You, on the other hand..." He pointed at Salazar with the tip of his sword. "Well, let's just say they don't call you 'The Butcher' for nothing. Now tell me, mate, which one of us is the better man?"

For a moment, Salazar was silent. Then, he looked to Henry.

"You, boy...your father is the captain of _The_ _Dutchman_?"

"Yes, sir."

Salazar nodded soberly. "A good man," he observed.

"And a former pirate, I might add," Jack interjected.

But a deadly glare from the Spanish captain quickly silenced him.

"Right," he apologized. "Sorry. Continue."

"He tried to come for us, once. To ferry us to the next world...to set us free from this curse, that we might be at peace." He laughed darkly. "But there are some places too cursed for even _The_ _Dutchman_ to go."

Henry gave a slight nod, his eyes filled with sincere remorse. "I'm sorry," he said gravely. "He would have done more if he could have, I'm sure."

Salazar returned the gesture. Though he could not fully explain why, he had a great deal of respect for the boy. He had seen the terror in the boy's eyes when his crew attacked the British naval ship, yet despite his fear, he did not run but had chosen to look death in the face. He was confident, yet not cocky like Jack; quiet, yet he did not hesitate to speak his mind when necessary. And there was another quality the boy had which he did not expect of one with such close ties to pirates – honor. Possessing the boy had given him a glance into the heart and soul of the young man before him, their consciousness merging until one man's thoughts and emotions were barely distinguishable from the other. He had seen Jack, then, through the boy's eyes...and he had seen the monster he had become – internally as well as externally, his humanity all but gone. It had been deeply disturbing. Recalling the boy's thoughts now, he remembered something which he hadn't taken notice of before, a troubled frown forming on his lips. His eyes shifted tentatively to Jack, and for a moment, he merely held his gaze, causing the pirate to squirm uncomfortably.

"While I was controlling the boy's mind," he began, "I saw something...not a memory – at least, not a memory of his... More like a dream...like visions of a legend...a story he had been told as a child... His father was still a mortal then... He was dying. You had the heart of Davy Jones in your hand, ready to become the next captain of that otherworldly ship that you yourself might gain immortality... But you chose to save him instead... Is this true?"

"Well, now, 'saved' is a rather strong word, given that becoming the captain of said ship comes with its own curses which is how we ended up in this bloody mess to begin with, searching for the trident..."

Salazar scowled impatiently.

"But technically speaking, yes."

"I see..." The Spaniard looked to Henry. "You trust this man? This...this _pirate_?"

Henry slowly lifted his eyes to Jack, then smiled. "With my life, sir."

Salazar grunted.

"Captain..."

"Yes?" Barbossa, Jack, and Salazar answered simultaneously.

Realizing the need for clarification, Henry started again. "Er...that is...Captain _Salazar_... If I may ask... While I was subject to your power, I endured a nightmare like nothing I had ever experienced before. I felt...so cold, so isolated... It was as if I were drowning in a darkness and despair so deep that it smothered everything else – all thoughts and emotions consumed by what must have been the last thing that you felt in life...a burning, blinding rage. It was suffocating, as though I was so far removed from humanity that I had forgotten everything and everyone else in the world... My entire identity was gone, my own memories were unreachable – a distant, foggy dream. And yet...one name remained on the tip of my tongue, a name I do not know..."

" _Maria_ ," Salazar whispered reverently.

" _The Silent Mary_... It isn't just the name of a ship, is it?" Henry asked. "Who was she?"

There was a wistful gleam in his eyes. It was the most vulnerable, the most human, he had looked since regaining his mortality.

"The most beautiful woman in all of Spain... _mi esposa_...my wife." He smiled sadly. "She was with child when I left. She didn't want me to go. Of course, I told her not to worry, and I promised her that that mission would be my last... But then...I never came home." He looked at Jack. "That is why I was so angry." He sighed. "I do not know what became of them. She has probably long forgotten about me. If she is even still alive...I doubt she or the child would want to see me now. They would not believe my story...and if they did, they would be repulsed by what I became. I have nothing now. _Nada_. No crew at sea, no one waiting at home..." He eyed Jack's sword almost pleadingly. "What is left but to fight one last fight and at least die with a little honor? Perhaps this time, I will have peace."

"You do your family a great disservice, sir." This time, it was Carina who spoke. "If she loved you as much as you love her, then I am certain she never gave up hope. Nor did her child."

"Oh? And how do you know that, eh?"

She was addressing Salazar, but her eyes were on Barbossa, bright with unshed tears.

"The same way that I knew someday, somehow, I would find my father... And if you truly care about them, who you are...or who you were...none of that will matter when they finally see you."

"Ah, but you forget," he reminded her, "I have neither ship nor crew – "

"We'll help you find them," Henry blurted.

"We will?" asked Jack.

"Aye," Barbossa slapped Jack on the back. "We will."

"Wait a moment! Wait a moment!" Jack waved his hands. He gestured to Barbossa. "You're a pirate." He pointed to Salazar. "He's a pirate hunter. You want to help him, yet he wants to kill us. And…everyone's alright with that? _DID I BLOODY MISS SOMETHING?!_ "

"Well, seein' as we are aboard _my_ ship, I don't see why it should concern ye, Jack," Barbossa grinned.

"I believe you mean _my_ ship," Jack corrected him. "You may have your _Queen Anne's Revenge_ , but _The_ _Pearl_ is mine. I saved her from Blackbeard's stash of shrunken ships and protected her with me life."

"Aye, but I'm the one who freed her for ye. Mister Gibbs," he addressed the first mate.

"Aye, sir?"

"Set a course fer Spain. We've a long journey ahead of us, so we'd best be gettin' started."

Gibbs, who had long grown used to the two captains bickering over the ownership of _The_ _Pearl_ , nodded, assuming they would eventually come to some sort of agreement, as they always did.

"Aye-aye, sir."

"Oh, and Gibbs?" Barbossa stopped him. "Don't fly the colors."

"Do I get any say in this at all?" Jack protested.

Barbossa, Carina, and Henry answered in unison. "No!"

Jack sighed. "Alright... Well, then..." He offered Salazar his hand. "I suppose we have a truce?"

Salazar hesitated, then grudgingly accepted the offer, bracing himself against the mast as he pulled himself up to his full height.

"Truce." Salazar leaned in so his mouth was just above Jack's ear. "But know this, Sparrow... If I happen to end up on the seas again, if you ever attack a Spanish ship..."

"I know, I know... You'll hunt me down and destroy me." He grinned. "Wouldn't expect anything less from you, Captain."

He turned to leave but was stopped by a heavy hand on his shoulder. He froze.

"Sparrow..."

Jack looked back at the man who had spent a lifetime of hating men like him and saw the faintest gleam of something that almost resembled respect.

" _Gracias_."

Jack nodded. As he walked away, he breathed a sigh of relief, striding up beside Barbossa. "Hector, you owe me one for this," he grumbled.

Barbossa, who had uncorked a bottle of rum, took a large swig and offered a sip to Jack, who graciously accepted.

"Go easy on it, Jack. We've naught but a few barrels left, and as we be sailin' away from the Caribbean, it may be awhile before we get the chance to restock."

Jack sighed again and shook his head, looking sadly at the bottle. "Why is the bloody rum always gone?"


End file.
